


Don't Give Up On Me

by backtothestart02



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Angst, Early season 7, F/M, Reconciliation, Romance, Smut, after iris gets out of the mirror, mirrorverse talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-13 16:27:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29404806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/backtothestart02/pseuds/backtothestart02
Summary: Early S7 - Barry and Iris deal with the after effects of the Mirrorverse on Iris.
Relationships: Barry Allen/Iris West, Kamilla Hwang & Iris West
Comments: 13
Kudos: 42





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My most recent masterpiece! (Hoping to post it all today) It's only four chapters, but I'm really proud of how this angst fic turned out. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. It focuses heavily on how Iris feels about Barry not realizing it wasn't really her when she was in the mirrorverse and the knowledge that he slept with mirror iris during that time. Enjoy!
> 
> Many thanks to sendtherain for beta'ing.

It was a dark, dreary day in Central City.

Iris sat without a word in a light sweater, jeans, and fuzzy socks by the window, her long hair cascading down her back, her forehead pressed to the chilled glass. She’d been silent all morning, sipping her dark roast and forcing small smiles for Barry whenever he approached her.

It wasn’t that she didn’t appreciate having him close. Hell, she’d been without his presence for months, and it nearly killed her. Just being able to feel him nearby was a relief and soothing to her worn-down senses. But she was so lost in herself, still recovering from all that had happened, that on days like today with crime at a low and both she and Barry off work because of the weekend, she really let herself accept what had happened to her and how far she still had to go.

It had been three weeks since she escaped the Mirrorverse, and defeated Eva McCulloch once and for all with the help of Barry and Team Flash. It had given her a high at the time, but frankly she’d just been glad to be alive and sane and reunited with the people that she loved, especially Barry.

But as time passed, she started to face the reality of all that she’d lost, and the fact that her doppleganger had been able to convince everyone for so long that she was the real Iris. On the surface, she didn’t blame anyone. Mirror Iris was a very good actress, because in a lot of ways she _was_ her. She had the same memories, knowledge, emotions… But she wasn’t alive. She wasn’t human. She wasn’t Iris. And for months Iris had been screaming into the void of the ever-present mirror that occasionally let her see her family and friends, hoping that they see the truth. And how could they not see it?

Especially Barry. Barry knew her so well…

Later, she’d come to learn that he had suspected Mirror Iris right from the start. She had cooked better, spoken in a foreign language fluently, and hit some guy over the head with a glass bottle - a boundary Iris herself probably wouldn’t have crossed, even undercover. She’d spoken the truth about how she felt about Barry always putting her in a corner when it was time to fight the bad guys, but Iris would’ve never started an argument just for the sake of it. She wouldn’t have made her husband think they were growing apart or that she wasn’t proud of him. She wouldn’t have stormed off.

In the following weeks, she wouldn’t have shut down around him if he didn’t give her what she wanted. When he reassured her that he trusted her, she wouldn’t have merely smiled and thanked him and walked away. She wouldn’t have spent the night away from him while he merely sat reading in the dark. She wouldn’t have told him that it was for the best that the Speed Force was dead, and he’d lose his speed indefinitely. She knew how big a part of his identity being the Flash was. If he wanted to walk away from it, that was one thing. But to encourage it when he didn’t? She would have never done that.

The revelation that Mirror Iris had slept with her husband, both literally and sexually, hadn’t hit Iris hard at first. But in time it did. How could Barry not tell? In their most intimate moments, how was he not aware that it wasn’t really her?

But when she learned that at the same moment, she had declared her undying love for him with her hand pressed to the mirror of another universe, he had too? She forgot all of that. How could she blame him, especially when he realized it was her after she did the most heinous thing? Mirror Iris had tried to fracture their marriage.

How _dare_ she.

Iris would never. And Barry knew that. He _knew_ it.

Everything started to align after that. In the end, Iris had saved herself, shocking everyone and slapping Barry with a burden of guilt unintentionally. Because she’d nearly gone mad, and he hadn’t connected the dots soon enough, and he should’ve been able to rescue her. He was her husband, the Flash. She might not be a damsel in distress, but she needed his help, and he failed her.

Her ever constant need to be near him, to touch him, to make love to him helped ease his guilt. She was just so glad to be back and to be with him. She forgave him, she said. She loved him, she said. She never wanted to lose him again.

But that was the first week.

It had been two weeks since then, and Barry could feel them growing apart. Iris didn’t say it, but he wondered if she was starting to blame him for not figuring out she was gone sooner. They hadn’t made love in a week, and the last time they had, it had been the result of a fight. He had started it. He’d wanted to push her into admitting she hadn’t really forgiven him.

She hit him with the blow he hadn’t been expecting, even though his argument implied he should have.

“I _have_ forgiven you,” she’d said, tears fresh in her eyes. “But forgiving and forgetting are two different things.”

And he’d felt so empty, he didn’t know what to do. Tears started to stream down his cheeks at the reality that she would never forget how he’d been with someone that wasn’t her, even if he’d been unaware of it at the time.

She approached him then and laid her hand over his heart.

“I blame her, not you. She manipulated you. She made you think I wasn’t your _home_.” Her voice cracked.

“Then why did you need to forgive me?” he asked sadly.

She kissed him, unwilling to answer his question and not really knowing how to. She walked backwards till she fell back on the bed and eagerly stripped him of his clothing, as he did hers. They made love that night with the intensity of a lightning storm. And in the morning, they were okay again; except they weren’t really. And Barry didn’t know how to fix it.

But he didn’t bring up the subject again. He didn’t want to fight. So instead he walked around her as if on eggshells. He did whatever he could to make her happy. But they didn’t make love since that night, and they rarely kissed, except for a peck here and there when leaving for work or arriving home. Barry still dropped off love letters at her work during her lunch hour, but she didn’t acknowledge them when she got home anymore like she used to. He wondered if there was any use writing them at all. For all he knew she was throwing them away.

His carefully written, poured from his soul love letters to his beautiful wife might be in the trash. And that worried him most of all.

“Want a refill?” he asked, now, in the present, forcing himself out of his morbid thoughts. Because the day itself looked morbid, and Iris looked sad, and all he could think of was to give her some more dark roast, because hell, he knew she at least wouldn’t turn down that.

“Hmm?” she asked, turning away from the window to see him holding the coffee pot before her. “Oh.”

Her brows furrowed, then she looked down into her half-empty cup.

“No, I still have some.”

“Isn’t it cold, though?” he asked, before he could get down on himself.

She took a sip.

“Mm…lukewarm.” She wrinkled her nose and held out her mug, and he filled it up to the brim. “Thanks, babe,” she said and took a sip before settling in at the window again.

He nodded once, too afraid he’d say something he’d regret if he opened his mouth again, and returned the pot to its holder in the kitchen. He stood there for a while again, watching his wife. She didn’t seem to notice, and she noticed even less when he went upstairs to change and then sped out of the loft to take a run in the rain.

He needed to get away, to figure things out, to put his relationship, his wife, back together again. As fate would have it though, he was unable to come up with anything anymore than the previous times he’d gone out for a run for this exact reason.

Realizing staying out any longer wouldn’t do any good, he sped and stopped abruptly once inside.

Iris wasn’t sitting by the window anymore. In fact, she was coming down the stairs when she stopped suddenly, spotting his sad-looking self-standing in front of the door.

“Oh, my God, Barry, you’re dripping! Let me-”

She rushed to get some towels and help him dry off.

“I figured you’d left, but I didn’t realize it was to run in the rain. Of all the stupid-”

He tensed, and she stopped herself. She met his eyes and searched them with concern.

“Barry… Are you okay?”

And he hated himself. Because she’d been about to lash out, but she held back because she knew it would hurt him. He wished she’d just hurt him. This dancing around each other thing they were doing was only making things worse. He wished she’d just acknowledge it. If she couldn’t get over what he and Mirror Iris did, the least she could do was be upfront about it.

He didn’t answer, so she pressed forward as if she had.

“Why don’t you go take a shower?” she suggested softly. “I’ll order some take-out and we can watch a movie after.”

 _‘You’ll touch me?’_ he almost said, but held back. That would start a fight. He didn’t want to fight, but he didn’t know how to act anymore.

So, he just nodded and said, “Okay.”

Iris forced another smile and headed into the living room to retrieve her cell phone and make the call. Barry sped up the stairs, lightning crackling behind him, so she wouldn’t see him dragging his feet the way he wanted to.

Then he entered the bathroom, undressed, and turned on the shower. The hot water should’ve been soothing, a relief to him after the cold rain that had nearly drowned him as he ran outside. But it only made him want to scream, want to yell, want to shout. He wanted to bang on the walls because how in the hell did he pull them out of this emptiness?

The evening would be fake, put on as a means of not fighting and because both of them were tired.

As it turned out, when Barry finished with his shower and dressed in a t-shirt and sweats, he came downstairs to the sight of Iris sleeping on the couch. He lifted her up and carried her to bed. When the delivery man came, Barry paid him and stuck the food in the fridge. He wasn’t feeling hungry anyway.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to sendtherain for beta'ing.

The next morning Iris woke up to the sun shining down upon her face. She moaned softly and stretched her arm across the bed, expecting to feel Barry’s warmth beside her. It was Sunday, after all. Neither of them had to go to work. They could just lie around and-

_What, Iris?_

Her eyes flickered open as the realization of where they were hit her once again – and the fact that there was no Barry in bed beside her. The warmth from his body was gone as well. Lukewarm sheets greeted her, telling her that he’d been gone for a while.

She frowned and sat up in bed, looking around the room.

“Barry?” she called out wonderingly, but there was no response.

She pulled the covers back and stared down at her legs, which were covered in pajama bottoms, same as the top half of her. Her brows furrowed in confusion. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d worn these pajamas. These were no-sex pajamas. These were ‘I’m dead to the world, let me sleep’ pajamas. These were pajamas she wore when she was mad at Barry for trying to seduce her after she’d made it clear she didn’t want that. And her next dawning realization was that she hadn’t been the one to put them on.

Barry had.

 _That_ broke her heart.

The night flashed before her eyes with blinding certainty. She and Barry had spent the day mostly apart. Again. He’d gone on a late afternoon run in the rain. Which mystified her still. Then she’d ordered take-out for them when he went to take a shower, and… fallen asleep. She fell asleep!

What a terrible day. And poor Barry!

She wouldn’t blame him if he ate all the food himself!

But something in her gut told her he hadn’t eaten a thing. For the same reason he’d gone for a run in the rain, looked like a poor soaked, abandoned puppy when he returned, and hadn’t woken her when the food arrived.

They were growing apart, and he blamed himself.

_Well, it is his faul-_

She tried to be honest with herself. But she knew it wasn’t the truth. She was to blame too. She might be struggling to come to terms with what happened between her husband and her evil doppleganger, but refusing to talk about it directly with Barry was driving them apart. He was overcompensating for her silence by giving her space, by not trying to coerce kissing or sex out of her, by not complaining, but hell, he had to be torturing himself on the inside.

If she knew Barry, and she did, that was exactly what he was doing.

She hadn’t even been able to read his love letters he left her anymore – the only proof that he was still the old Barry she knew, and everything was right with them in some way. She tucked the new letters away in a drawer in her desk, telling her she’d read them when she was ready, when they were okay again. But there was no way he hadn’t caught on to her not mentioning them when she came home from work these past two weeks. Not when the week before them she’d been unable to stop gushing.

_Damn, what had happened?_

When did she go from not being able to be separate from him for more than a few minutes to needing a six feet separation at almost all times – and not for the reason the rest of the world was doing it?

She missed his presence now. Not just missed it but craved it.

She had to get past what happened with Mirror Iris, and she knew she wouldn’t until she’d had an honest discussion with Barry. She just didn’t want to have it.

God, she missed them so much she could hardly breathe.

She wanted desperately to go back to the time before the Mirrorverse. To that first week after Crisis when they hadn’t been able to get enough of each other, because Barry was alive. She no longer had to worry about Nora growing up without father or herself being widowed at such a young age. They had their whole lives ahead of them now. Nothing could keep them apart.

Until it did.

Shivering somehow from her dark thoughts, she slipped into her fuzzy slippers and made her way down the stairs – after quick popping in the bathroom to see if Barry was there…nope. Maybe he was in the kitchen making breakfast? Not there either. She spotted breakfast though. Pancakes and sausage and bacon and eggs. And orange juice.

She bristled suddenly, wondering if he’d used the expensive juicer Mirror Iris had bought to make him that fancy breakfast that tasted better than hers ever would, and now if she did really try and make something good for him, it would remind him of her copy self. She couldn’t even win that way. She couldn’t win at all.

But Barry’s note next to the food made her eat, reminded her she was hungry, and that even if he wasn’t here, he could maybe see when he returned that she’d eaten his food, that she was grateful. Because she had a husband who cared. Who was trying desperately to make up for something that he had no control over and had been blind to.

But he shouldn’t have been.

She forced her fingers to relax on her fork and read the note again.

_Good morning,_

_Sorry I wasn’t here when you got up. Went for a run._

_Enjoy breakfast!_

_I love you._

_Barry_

Tears filled her eyes, a few trickling down her cheeks.

How in the world could she hate this man? How could anyone?

And she didn’t hate him, she realized, not for the first time. She convinced herself she did, and that’s why she was so afraid to be honest with him, really honest. She didn’t want to push him away. He was the love of her life. She needed him desperately, even if she hadn’t been acting like it the last couple weeks.

But if she didn’t hate him, then what was holding her back from putting the incident behind her? Was it Mirror Iris she hated? She could understand that. She couldn’t put all her hatred on someone that was quite literally a pile of glass now, so she put it on Barry who had been a willing participant, even though he hadn’t understood the situation for what it was.

The true culprit here was Eva McCulloch. She’d started everything by pulling her into the Mirrorverse and creating her doppleganger at the same time. Eva was defeated now. Not dead but driven mad; a fate worse than death as far as Iris was concerned. So, who was there left to hate?

_Herself?_

She swallowed.

She’d gone alone in the middle of the night to Eva McCulloch’s old office. She’d thought she’d find something vital and ended up being the damsel in distress she swore she wasn’t anymore. She’d gotten herself out eventually – and Kamilla and Singh with her, but… At what cost?

Did Barry see her evil doppleganger every time he looked at her?

She shook her head and put away her dishes and the remaining food. She didn’t know where Barry was, but she knew they needed to talk. She needed to be open and honest with him, really honest. She needed to tell him that she didn’t know where her emotions lie exactly but that she didn’t hate him. What she hated was the distance between them. She wasn’t blind to it. It was impossible to ignore.

She licked her lips and retrieved her phone to text him. He was probably still on his run, or maybe he’d gotten swept away with Flash business. Either way, she knew he’d come to her as soon as he could.

That was just the kind of husband he was – devoted, selfless, generous, unrelenting in his love for her.

But just as she was about to open her latest message from him to type a new one, a gust of wind blew around her followed by a brief flash of light. By the time everything settled, Barry was before her – a little out of breath, a little sweaty, but gorgeous and reassuring and safe for her.

Probably not expecting her to be so near when he came in the door, Barry stopped suddenly.

“Hey.”

“Hi,” she said timidly, swallowing again.

His brows furrowed instantly.

“Is everything all right?”

“Yeah,” she lied. “I mean, I was just about to text you…to see when you were coming back. I…missed you.”

A heavy weight seemed to have been lifted from his shoulders. She realized it had been a while since she’d said anything remotely close to that to him. She scolded herself inwardly.

“I didn’t want to wake you,” he said, his eyes shifting to the floor. “You were sleeping so peacefully.”

She heard the unspoken words behind the thoughtfulness. No nightmares, no tossing and turning, no crying out in her sleep. Her PTSD from the Mirrorverse came in many forms. Difficulty sleeping was the most common and most intense.

“Well, thanks for breakfast. It was delicious.” She took a step towards him and tried for flirtatious when she said, “The note was really sweet too.” Her eyes sparkled.

Barry didn’t quite know what to make of her behavior. A smile tugged at his lips, but he wasn’t sure whether to believe what was spilling out of her mouth or try to come up with an ulterior motive explaining it.

He went with option two.

“Iris…”

“Yeah?”

“What’s going on?”

Sometimes she really hated how he saw right through her. In an effort to dissuade him and approach the issue on her own terms, she lunged forward, clasped her hands around his face, and pulled him down to kiss him.

He reciprocated at first, drinking her in, starved for her it seemed like. She felt electricity spark up and down her spine and wondered if they’d gone into Flashtime, or if the speed force was getting just as excited as the two of them.

But then Barry pulled back, panting.

“What?” she asked, frowning. “What’s wrong? Don’t you want to kiss me?”

He leaned his forehead against hers and tried to regain his breath.

“Of course I want to kiss you. It’s been so long, since…” He glanced down at her attire and recalled that he’d been the one to put it there. “Nice pajamas.”

Her lips thinned. “You would know.”

He pulled back entirely but couldn’t make his hands leave hers. He needed to touch her. After so long they’d kissed. They’d held each other. They were so close to regaining ground. He couldn’t lose it completely now.

“Barry…”

He lifted his head to look into her eyes.

“Do you think I’m mad at you?”

He gulped.

“No…” She raised an eyebrow. “Yes…I don’t know.” He shook his head.

“Oh, baby.” She tugged him closer again and pressed their foreheads together once more. “I think we need to talk. Really talk.”

He groaned but not in displeasure.

“I would really love that.”

“Yeah?” she asked, no flirting this time, just sincerity.

He nodded. “I’ve been going out of my mind, Iris. Up all hours of the night, running all hours of the day. Blaming myself for anything that could make you sad or upset. If it’s right for me to do that, I need to know. If it’s not-”

“It’s not,” she said.

“No?”

She shook her head.

“But I’m still confused myself, so I think I better just…” She sighed. “…tell you how I feel.”

He pressed a kiss to the side of her face and intertwined their fingers, leading her to the nearest couch.

When they were both settled, Barry took a breath and prompted her.

“Okay. Tell me.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: NSFW this chap for smut.
> 
> Many thanks to sendtherain for beta'ing.

_“Okay. Tell me.”_

Where the hell did she start?

Iris licked her lips, hardly aware her fingers were trembling until her husband lightly covered them with his own.

“I don’t want you touching me,” she said, before he could get a word out.

Barry stilled, and then pulled his hands back, not knowing what to do with them. Iris couldn’t look at him. Her eyes filled with tears. She knew she’d broken his heart.

Several moments passed. They were achingly painful. Finally, she forced herself to lift her head and look into his eyes. He was watching her steadily, patiently, but she saw the brokenness in him.

“But in the same breath,” she began again, “I crave your hands on me everywhere.”

He watched her steadily, clearly wanting to touch her but restraining himself because of what she’d first said. He was a broken man, but he was also a determined one. He just didn’t know where to begin, and he had a feeling interrupting her in any way was a bad call.

Iris swallowed.

“For two months I was stuck in that mirror dimension, and for five weeks of it, you didn’t even realize I was gone.”

His eyes closed in anguish.

“I couldn’t bring myself to blame you at the time, because that…thing that looked like me was so goddamn convincing. But as the cracks started to show, I wondered how in the hell you couldn’t see what was going on, that she wasn’t me.” She paused. “I missed you and loved you so much, I couldn’t see past that. Blaming you was inconceivable. You were _Barry_ , my _husband_. You’d never intentionally hurt me.”

“I wouldn’t,” he said quickly, needing to reaffirm what she was saying. “Not ever.”

“And I’d never intentionally hurt you. I’d never threaten our marriage. I’d never tell you I wasn’t your home. God damn it, that was in your vows!”

“I know!” he exclaimed. “I know it was. That’s how I knew it wasn’t you. That’s when everything began to come together. After that I was sure.”

“I know,” she softened. “And I’m so glad, because I would…I would _never_.”

“I know you wouldn’t,” he said quietly.

“God, after that I just…I wanted to ring her neck for daring to hurt you so badly. I wanted to beat Eva to a bloody pulp for deceiving me and setting everything in motion.”

He seemed astounded by that admission.

“Though not by breaking a bottle over her head, that’s for sure.” She smiled weakly, and Barry laughed, though it was strained.

She leaned forward and ran her hands over his arms, reaching up to his shoulders, then cupping his face, capturing his gaze in a way that nothing else could.

“I’m so sorry that she made you believe I was cold to you, that I didn’t value who you are as The Flash, that I started fights for no real reason, that I was… _mean_. I was glad she avoided your kisses, because she wasn’t me. But I wasn’t glad for you because you thought…” She shook her head, tears soaking her eyelashes. “Barry, there are few things in life I need more than you kissing me.”

He sprung forward the short distance between them and kissed her. She didn’t push him away. She pushed her hands into his hair and nearly climbed onto his lap to cave to all he had to give. But then she remembered and broke off their kiss.

“But you made love to her, Barry.”

Slowly she slunk away until she was at the far end of the couch, her knees up against her chest and her arms wrapped tightly around them.

“You touched someone intimately that wasn’t me.” She hesitated. “You cheated.”

A heavy silence settled between them.

“Or was it sexual assault? Because you didn’t know? It was. Or was it?” She blinked her tears away and looked towards the stairs, replaying in her mind the way he’d lifted Mirror Iris into his arms and carried her up the stairs to hers and Barry’s bedroom.

“I keep going over it in my mind, and I can’t decide.” She looked back at him. “The logical part of me says you were assaulted. Of course you were. She couldn’t be convincing if she didn’t at least start acting the way I would. She was so close to who I was, at least in the beginning.

“But my heart…” She licked her lips. “My heart says some part of you did know. You had to have. Even my mirror self couldn’t have acted exactly as I would have in such an intimate way. That was one place the truth should’ve been abundantly clear.”

“I thought you’d changed,” he admitted, not looking at her. “Crisis changed so many things… I thought maybe it changed you too.” Hesitantly, he looked up. “I blamed myself for not being able to adapt. I vowed to be with you and support you for the rest of our lives, Iris. If the end of the world changed you even a little, that was just something I had to accept and love anyways. Because you’re Iris. You’re the love of my life. I wasn’t going to refuse to love or support some part of you that had changed because of me. There was no way.”

“Barry, Crisis was not your fault. You helped recreate the world and bring all of us back. You can’t blame yourself for the changes that were made.”

“Then how do I fix this? Us? How do I bring us back to the way we were before Eva and the Mirrorverse and this twisted version of you that I…I couldn’t see through at first.”

She shook her head and looked down at her moving fingers in her lap.

“I don’t know if you can, Barry.”

“Iris-”

“Because…what I fear most, more than anything, is that at least in the beginning, you preferred her to me.” She choked up the tears she’d been holding back. 

Barry’s jaw dropped. Disbelief coursed through him.

“Iris, no.”

He longed to pull her close, but he was afraid to, so he inched just a little closer himself. He reached for her left hand and pressed kisses to her fingers, and to her rings. She let him.

“She made perfect pancakes,” she sputtered. “And she spoke Italian.”

“Iris…”

“And she was probably more adventurous in bed too,” she huffed.

He lifted his head up to look at her doubtfully.

“More adventurous than us?” He shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

“She had to have been!”

“ _Why_?”

“Because she was a better version of me!”

That made him snap. He scooted forward and cupped her face tightly.

“Hey. No one is a better version of you, okay? _No one_.” She didn’t respond. “OKAY?”

She still didn’t respond.

“Hey, look at me.” He relaxed his grip slightly.

Finally, she met his gaze.

“Something was off with her. Something was always off. She made me doubt myself and you and us. She didn’t share our connection, not even at first. And I could never quite shake that. I did a good job convincing myself that it was me, but there was a voice in the back of my head that was screaming, telling me to listen to my gut.”

“So, why didn’t you?” she asked, her bottom lip trembling.

“Because I didn’t want to doubt you. I trust you with my life, with everything. So, when she said we’d never grow apart, I believed her. Because it sounded like _you_.”

She swallowed and cupped his face.

“I want to believe you, Barry. I want to more than anything. I want to believe that when you look at me you don’t see her.”

“I don’t!” Tears welled in his eyes now too. “How could I? You’re sweet and loving and passionate and everything she wasn’t, not at her core. She was a different person. She wasn’t you, no matter how much she pretended she was. And when she got lazy, I noticed. I’ll always notice.”

“Barry…” She sighed.

He closed the distance between them and kissed her quickly, passionately. She was breathless when he broke away.

“Tell me you want this, us.”

Her heart ached.

“I want us.”

“Tell me you trust me.”

“I trust you.”

“Tell me you believe me.”

She hesitated.

“I believe you.”

“But you don’t.”

She swallowed.

“I believe that you believe what you’re saying. But I wonder if subconsciously…”

“Don’t wonder.”

“I can’t help it!” she cried out. “We’re sitting here right now so I can pour out my feelings. Not so you can seduce me, not so you can tell me I’m wrong, not so you can defend yourself or even accept full responsibility. Just so I can get it all out and maybe…I don’t know…heal from this, this sickness, or…whatever this is that’s wrong with me!”

“There’s nothing wrong with you!”

“Then why do I feel so broken?”

He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“Because you were taken advantage of, traumatized, almost went insane…”

“So were you,” she said softly.

He intertwined their fingers.

“Tell me I can make love to you, Iris.”

She shook from the chills wracking her body from the sound of his words. Suddenly she wanted nothing more.

“Make love to me, Barry.”

He opened his eyes and leaned in, closing them again as he kissed her. Iris lifted herself up and climbed onto his lap, pushing him down onto his back so she could straddle him better.

She kissed his neck and slipped her hands beneath his shirt. Soon the clothing was over his head and on the floor, and her hands were exploring his chest and torso, kissing her way down as he gently massaged her scalp.

“Mmm, that feels good, Barry,” she murmured, laying her head over his heart as he pulled the strands of her hair away from her face.

“ _You_ feel good, Iris.”

She sighed contently, his skin warm and heavenly against her face. She wrapped her arms around his body and scooted up to kiss him again.

“I love you so much,” she murmured between kisses.

He groaned. “I love you.”

In one swift movement, he had Iris resting on the pillows on the other side of the couch, laying on her back as he hovered over her. He unbuttoned her pants and slid them down her body, then did the same to himself, depositing the set on the floor where his shirt had gone.

Iris sat up and rid herself of her shirt, but Barry insisted he unhook and dispose of her bra.

“Jesus, Iris.”

He ran one thumb over a nipple, then leaned down and kissed it.

Iris was dazed. She threaded her fingers through his hair as he worshiped her breasts and licked a trail down to her belly. It was as if he’d never seen her naked before, when in fact they’d made love only a few weeks prior.

But tonight was different. It felt like a fresh start, a new chapter in their lives, even after everything she’d confessed. He was trying so hard to please her, to show how much he loved her, to be what she wanted and needed. How could she doubt him when it was like this between them? How could she hold onto her heavy feelings when all he wanted was the real her?

Barry wouldn’t let her – not now at any rate. He was too busy kissing her, caressing her, stripping her of her underwear and himself of his. If she didn’t act now, he’d make the entire business about pleasuring her. Which was all well and good, but she wanted to show him how much she appreciated him too.

She reached out to where his cock sat propped semi-erect along his body and started to stroke it. It made Barry break off the kiss and press his head into her collar bone.

“ _Iris_ ,” he hissed, as she squeezed his length and continue to move up and down it. “S-s-stop.”

“Never,” she whispered, and pushed him so he was on his back again and her mouth hovered above his tip.

“This is about you,” he groaned, reaching down despite himself and lowering her mouth onto him. Eagerly she sucked, deepthroating him until he was hissing profanities and rising off the couch.

“ _Jesus_.”

She pulled free with a pop, satisfied to find his cock fully erect now.

“Just humor me, will you?” she asked, prettily smiling at him.

He liked that smile. He’d missed it. He desired her even more the longer he looked at it.

“Gladly,” he said, lifting her up and lowering her slowly onto his cock as he devoured her breasts again.

Iris pushed him down onto his back, her arms flat against his chest and began to move. His eyes flickered with electricity before he shut them tightly, his chin tipping up and his lips parted the faster she ground against him.

“Oh, baby,” she purred, one hand still on his chest, the other clutching her breast.

Barry couldn’t stand it. He set one foot on the floor and started to thrust up into her, digging his fingers both into her hip and the top of the couch for his desired speed and leverage.

He wanted to push her down, to pleasure her, to eat her up until she was screaming, but for reasons he could never determine, she was certain in her goal to pleasure him, to hear the profanities streaming from his mouth, feel how he clutched at her with lustful desire.

He could pleasure her any time, and he probably would before the day was done, but she wanted to show him how she could make him go wild. Not her mirror self, but her. Iris West-Allen. Only she was capable of taking him to depths he’d never gone.

And with one more thrust up into her pussy, she exploded, and so did he, his white semen coating her insides and spilling out onto their legs.

Breathing heavily, Barry opened his eyes and stared up at her, his eyes watering and another growl seeping out in satisfaction.

“That was fucking fantastic, Iris,” he managed. “But why didn’t you let me-”

“Hush.” She leaned down and kissed him. “Let’s do it again.”

He smiled against her lips and picked her up off the couch. Still inside her, he felt as she rose and fell all the way up the stairs against him. It made him stop at the first landing to fuck her against the wall for a few seconds. He almost fell to the nearby steps to finish the job, but she insisted they make it to the bedroom.

She remembered that awful memory – when she’d seen him carry her mirror self up the stairs to make love to her. But he didn’t seem nearly as desperate then. He hadn’t been naked, he hadn’t paused, he hadn’t fucked her midway because he couldn’t wait any longer. But he did that now, with her.

He hadn’t known her mirror self wasn’t his wife that other time, but in this moment it hardly mattered.

In this moment she was driving him absolutely out of his mind. _She_ did that. No one else. _Her_.

And Barry – _her_ Barry – wasn’t with anyone else. He was with his _wife_. He didn’t want to be with anyone but her. He never had. And he was going to prove it to her all night and every night.

 _As long as it takes_.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final chap! I hope you enjoy the ending! Please tell me what you think!
> 
> Many thanks to sendtherain for beta'ing.

The next morning when Iris woke up, something strange happened.

It started the way most mornings had, with a sliver of light coming through the thin drapes warming her face and rousing her senses. She was beneath a sheet and a blanket, and her head was deep in her puffy pillow. Barry was beside her in bed just a few inches away, as he was most mornings.

But what was different about today was when Iris opened her eyes and saw her sleeping husband not too far away, she didn’t feel tension wracking every bone in her body. She didn’t feel an impenetrable wall between them. She didn’t feel the need to run away or to scream or to pretend so he wouldn’t feel hurt.

She felt…at peace.

More than that she felt the need to wake Barry up so he could share in this moment with her. A silly thing maybe, but for her it was monumental.

“Barry,” she said softly, almost regrettably, because he looked so content to be sleeping.

He stirred slightly in his sleep but didn’t open his eyes.

“Barry,” she repeated, this time a little louder, and it astonished her because for weeks she’d never been the one to call for him. He was always searching for her, hoping to get through to her, get her attention, make her happy.

Well, what would make her happy right now would be if she could look into those beautiful green eyes of his and see him smile just for her.

“B-” She stopped herself and considered another way of waking him up, or…not waking him up?

She shifted her body slowly over to his side of the bed, his warmth emanating off him. Just as she was reaching for his arm to wrap around her body, those beautiful eyes of his opened up.

“Iris?” He blinked, his voice somewhat scratchy from literally just having woken up. “What…What are you doing over here?”

“I…”

Suddenly, she felt embarrassed and debated shifting away, but _no_. She wasn’t going to do that. She hadn’t opened up about absolutely everything last night to put distance back between them in the morning light.

“I called your name,” she backtracked. “You didn’t wake up.”

He frowned. “I’m sorry.”

“I was just gonna…cuddle, see if that worked.” She shrugged her shoulder.

He smiled slowly and wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close until she was fully enveloped in his heat.

“That _always_ works.”

Iris smiled to herself, loving the feel of her body perfectly cradled in his frame, his nose deep in her dark tresses as he inhaled her scent, and his lips grazing her neck as his arm fell snugly around her torso.

“I love you, Barry.”

She could feel his smile and the tingling of his toes beneath the covers when he answered her.

“I love you, Iris.”

She felt his Adam’s apple bob and ran her fingers back through his hair to pull him still closer. His hand slid up over one covered breast when she did so, and their legs tangled together.

He groaned when their lips met, and she bit his bottom lip.

“ _Iris_.”

She pulled away slightly, then turned her body so she was facing him and returned to his heat. She straddled one leg over his hip and cupped his face, blessing him with one more kiss before she determined to say what she needed to.

“Thank you for last night,” she said, and he started to smile. She rolled her eyes. “Not just for that.”

“But you are thankful for it,” he teased, lowering his hand around her waist almost to her butt cheeks.

“Focus, Bartholomew.”

His hands stilled, then returned to their previous position.

“I’m listening.”

“Good. Because I know it was hard, listening to everything I had to say. There’s a reason I kept it all buried. I didn’t want to hurt you, and I didn’t feel that my feelings were valid.”

“Iris.” His voice choked. “Your feelings are _always_ -”

She covered his mouth with her fingers.

“Let me finish.”

He pursed his lips, then relaxed his face, waiting.

“I didn’t think my feelings were valid until I talked them through with you, until you really let me speak, and you listened. And just a few minutes ago when I woke up, I felt so…at peace. I felt like we reconnected, and not just physically,” she was quick to add, even though he had no intention of changing the subject. “Do you feel that way too?”

He nodded and ran his fingers through her hair.

“I do. Just you wanting to cuddle with me first thing in the morning is huge, Iris. It feels…well, it feels like-”

“It used to be. Before everything.”

He attempted a small smile.

“Yeah.”

“I don’t think everything’s fixed,” she continued. “I’m still dealing with the PTSDof the Mirrorverse, and one really great, deep, emotional conversation in addition to love-making doesn’t fix everything, as much as I wish it did.”

“Tell me what to do,” he said, and she knew then that he’d been half-wishing everything _could_ be back to normal after the night they’d had. “Just name it, and I’ll do it.”

“Call me out.”

His brows furrowed. “Huh?”

“Don’t let me sink back into the person I was before last night. I need you, Barry. You’re my rock. I’m not going to get through this without you, so I need you to be my anchor, my foundation, the lifeline that keeps my heart beating.”

He pressed his forehead to hers.

“I’ll always be your lifeline, Iris.”

“I mean it, Barry,” she continued. “There’s giving me the space I need and giving me so much space that I drown in it and can’t find my way out.” She sighed shakily. “I don’t want to drown anymore.”

He opened his eyes and pulled back to look into hers.

“Hey, you won’t. I’m here for you, Iris. Everything you do and say and think, I’ll be right by your side reminding you that we’re a team, and I love you.”

She smiled softly.

“I love you, too.”

Her smile started to widen.

“What?” he asked, and his own smile was like electricity fueling hers.

She wiggled her toes underneath the sheet in excitement.

“I’m going to get a haircut!”

…

Barry sat at his desk at CCPD, writing his love letter to Iris for that day, and wondering what about a haircut had gotten him so worked up?

He was sure it was just Iris’ literal way of moving forward with a new look, but he really didn’t want her to be doing it because she thought it would help him differentiate between his wife and her mirror image. Because if he was faced with the challenge now, today, he was sure he could tell them apart, even if they were wearing the same clothes and hairstyle.

His workload had been high all day, but he’d hardly been able to focus. He’d had to restart his letter five times, because it had moved from romantic to worrisome each time he had attempted to write it.

As the seconds ticked away, he knew there was only so much time he could spend on this letter or he’d risk not even seeing her when he dropped it off on his break. _Except you’re the Flash and can go any time you like…_

He ignored that logic. He wanted a moment with her, to see if she’d read his letters and if she was really okay or if she needed him to intervene the way she’d asked him to do earlier that morning in bed.

A soft jingle started to sound from his phone, and he saw it was a text from Iris.

**I got the cut! Want to see?**

Almost dropping the phone, he flashed over to the Citizen. He found Iris alone in the office and almost fell flat on his face.

Iris had gotten a haircut, that was for sure. Her long, dark tresses were gone. Instead, she donned a cut even shorter than when he’d come out of the speed force. In fact, it looked a lot like Nora’s hair had when she’d been with them.

His eyes filled with tears.

“Well? What do you think?” she asked, not sensing his emotional state right away. “Do you like it?”

He didn’t move. Then she saw the sheet of paper in his hands, and her eyes lit up.

“Oh! Your love letter! Let me rea-”

“N-n-n-no!” He sidestepped her, and she frowned. “It’s not finished yet.” He shoved it into his pocket. “I’ll bring it by later.”

She pursed her lips, then asked, “Barry, is something wrong?”

“What? No. No, of course not. Your hair, I mean…it’s beautiful, and Iris… It’s _Nora_.”

“I know,” she said softly, taking his hands and pulling him into the office. “I brought her picture with me.” She perched herself on the corner of her desk. “Having you by my side, Barry, that means everything. I don’t doubt you anymore. I don’t think you prefer my mirror image.”

“You don’t?”

She shook her head.

“But I needed something for me, something I could see every time I looked in the mirror that would tell me to fight for a better future and not hang onto delusions or sadness or any negativity that could keep me from becoming the best version of myself.”

“And that’s Nora.”

She nodded. “She deserves the best version of me.” She squeezed his hands. “So do you.”

“Oh, Iris, I didn’t mean-”

“I know, honey.”

She dropped his hands and curled hers around the collar of his shirt, pulling him down slowly so she could give his lips a lingering peck. But when their lips touched, all the worries that had been bundled up in Barry since he’d first heard about the haircut were released in a boundless boost of positive energy and relief. What had intended to be a short kiss on Iris’ end turned into an intense, passionate make out on Barry’s.

“Mm, _Barry_.”

Her hands slid over his jacket and pulled him closer. He lifted her up on top of the desk and spread his hands over every curve as his mouth devoured hers, their tongues tangling and driving moans out as they fought to close the distance between them further.

Iris had just tipped her head back to allow him access to her neck when the sight of a certain intern with her jaw practically on the floor came into view.

“Oh, my God, Allegra!”

She quickly pushed Barry away and stood back on her feet, adjusting her skirt and wiping what she thought was all of the smudged lipstick from her face as well as Barry’s.

“I’ll see you later?” he asked, grinning.

She nodded hurriedly. “Go!”

And in a flash, he was gone.

“Things must be good at home,” Kamilla remarked, coming in behind Allegra. She pointed to her own upper lip when she caught Iris’ eye, and Iris quickly turned around to remove the final smudge of lipstick.

“Hmm? Oh, yeah. Things are…things are good.”

Kamilla came around the desk after shooing Allegra away and put her hand on Iris’ shoulder until their eyes met, because only they had been in the Mirrorverse together and known its anguish.

“I’m glad,” she said softly and smiled.

Iris relaxed and smiled back.

“Me too.”

The two got settled in the office working, and soon enough Allegra came back acting as if it had never happened and got to work too. Barry zipped by at one point to deliver a particularly sexy love letter to her, which she tucked away and privately read when the girls weren’t around. She read all the other love letters then too, the ones she’d been too afraid to read because she wasn’t sure if she could bear all the love from her husband when she had been partially blaming him for her current circumstances and feeling guilty about it.

But the letters were so beautiful, so romantic, and they touched a place so deep inside her that she knew everything was going to be all right.

When she got home later that day, Barry was already there making dinner.

As soon as she was out of her shoes, she went to him. Up on her tippy-toes she drew him to her and kissed his lips.

He smiled and asked, “You want to pick up where we left off?”

Instead of answering directly she said, “I read your love letters, Barry.”

He smiled until he realized she’d used the plural.

“Love letter _s_?”

She nodded. “I loved every word.” She paused. “I’m sorry for shutting you out these past weeks.”

He shook his head and stepped away from the stove so he could focus entirely on her.

“Don’t be.”

He pressed his lips to her forehead.

“We move forward together from now on, yeah?”

She wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tight.

“Absolutely.”

After a few beats, he said, “So, uh…dinner or the other thing?”

She rolled her eyes and smiled.

“Dinner,” she said, pulling away to laugh and pat his chest. When she looked back at him, he was pouting. “But maybe after,” she said with an innocent shrug as she made her way to the stairs and tiptoed up them to change.

Barry was left watching her and smiling long after she’d disappeared.

A warmth spread through his chest to every part of his body.

Everything was going to be okay.

They were Barry and Iris.

They didn’t give up on each other.


End file.
